I suppose it could be worse.
It could be the "when are you due?" question.
Honestly, I get the "P" question too often. But, I suppose, after 3 kids, the body is supposed to show evidence of child bearing, right? So, the most recent conversation went down like this...
I'm at the water park with my kids and a girlfriend and one very nice lady I've met for the first time. I'm wearing my bikini, not much place to hide there. I'll refer to her as Woman A.
Woman A turns to me and says, "I hope you don't take this the wrong way..."
Internal Dialogue:
Oh great, she's going to ask me the "P" question.
Woman A: Are you pregnant?
Internal Dialogue: Yep, there it is.
Me: No...I know, I just look pregnant.
Woman A (obviously embarrassed by her faux pas, tries to recover): No, well, you're just so thin and you have a little belly, you know? But lucky you, you don't have any stretch marks!
Internal Dialogue: Well, at least she's trying...
Me: I know, I got lucky. That's probably why I have a little belly, since I didn't get any stretch marks, I had to get something.
Woman A: Well, at least you don't have belly fat.
Me: Well, actually I do have some, but that's okay. My body is what it is, so...
Sadly, I have experienced the "P" question many times. Once was at Xavier's grandma's 100th birthday party. I wore a body hugging dress. To my horror, my father-in-law came up to me with one of his female relatives in tow, with a big slightly drunken smile on his face and loudly exclaimed in front of the entire party:
"MY COUSIN AND I WERE TALKING ABOUT YOU AND HOW YOU LOOK IN THAT DRESS. YOU HAVE QUITE A BELLY...SO, IS THERE A BABY IN THERE?
It was obvious, my father-in-law proudly and astutely believed he had unearthed a secret.
Me: "Well, Daniel, no. I just look pregnant."
Daniel (Obviously did not believe me, thought I was being coy): "You are expecting, aren't you?"
Me: "Daniel, if I was a few months pregnant, I wouldn't be able to be here, I'd be at home vomiting into a toilet."
Daniel: "Oh"
I felt the need to explain
Me: "After Nico was born, I got an IUD and immediately afterward, my stomach popped out. It has never gone back down, I need to get this thing removed."
Daniel: "Oh, okay, sorry."
Me: "No problem, I know I look pregnant, I don't blame you for asking, I would also ask, myself."
Problem is: Have since removed the IUD and still getting the "P" question. However, there is a remarkable difference, now instead of looking 3 mos pregnant, I look about 1.5 mos. I don't think the "P" question will ever stop.
Went to the gynecologist and she told me I was crazy and that it was all in my head. I lined up sideways and said, "look at my stomach, that's not normal." She said it is a medical mystery. She said I'm "lucky considering" and that it could be worse. She listed off a slew of things I've never even heard of (after effects of child birth) such as hanging lower belly fat or something like that?! I thought, I'll never complain again. She said she can't imagine my IUD affecting my body in the way I'm insisting it has. She said, "maybe it's gas."
"So, I've been bloated from gas for 4 yrs? Don't you think if it were gas I'd just fart?"
She checked, not gas. So, after IUD removal, stomach went down noticeably within 48 hrs. I'm still happy to have my body back, even if it's still with a belly, at least I know it's rightfully mine.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Assault 8/2012
Ok, there is something seriously f-ed up here. I think EVERY female I know, or almost every female has been assaulted at least once. Most get their purses snatched. Some, who carry their purses across their bodies end up getting dragged down the street by the guy riding a moped who snags her purse from behind.
They go by on mopeds or bicycles and snatch purses or necklaces. Some get straight up robbed. Ramadan seems to be a season of higher crime, especially towards the end. I'm always nervous, but am more so now than before. One woman got attacked on the beach while running alone by two men, one carrying a 6 inch blade at her. Totally mental. In the end, she got neither robbed nor raped, she screamed so much, they walked away. One got attacked outside her home while she was unloading the car filled with groceries. Najat got attacked while she left a house from work, a guy put a knife to her throat and he walked away with her cell phone and her week's wages. Another woman got attacked yesterday while loading her car with groceries. Two men attacked her. She fought both of them off. She put pictures of her ordeal on facebook and is all bloody, but the girl fought. I give her kudos. I doubt they had a knife, but it must have been on the main road. Am totally confused as to why no one helped her??
All of my survival instincts kick in here in Maroc that I had in Chicago. Basically it feels like you're living in the middle of a Chicago slum, so how would you act if you're living in Cabrini Green?
I always look to see who is around me. I keep my purse off the street side shoulder. If I'm walking with a friend side by side, I keep my purse on the shoulder between us. I just went out and bought a 15$ plastic knockoff purse. Problem isn't the purse, it's the papers and cards inside the purse. I'm always worried about getting things snatched. Locals have warned me that if I'm on my cell phone in the car, I need to keep it on the ear that is away from the window, because someone could come by, reach in and snatch it out of my hand. Same goes for purses and packages, keep items on the floor behind you.
Never go running with money, a purse, or something valuable to steel. I always run with nothing on me, just in case. I always run either inside Marina Blanca where there will not be a problem, or on the street where there are lots and lots of people. I have more danger getting hit by a taxi or car suddenly pulling off onto the shoulder or a moped than anything else. I never go out alone where there are no people, forget about going out at night. Don't walk down a street that is dark. If you don't get attacked by a man, you might get attacked by a pack of wild dogs. I'm more afraid of the dogs currently than men.
I have yet to have a problem, but I think that has something to do with luck. A woman got her purse snatched last week while she was walking with her husband by a guy, albeit, not a very bright one who was on foot. Her husband is fit and was wearing trainers. Together they yelled and ran after the guy. He chucked the purse on the ground and continued running off. He broke the strap of her purse as he tried to steal it.
I understand why women wear djelabas. They have open pockets, so you put your belongings on the inside. I might just go out and snag my own, makes it kind of hard to get to my purse though if it's shoved inside a Djelaba, oh well. I guess the key is to look poor, but who wants to go around all covered up looking poor? Not I. I just want to be myself and not have any issues. Most people are very, very nice and friendly. It's just scary when something like this happens. You know it will happen, it's just a matter of time. I figured I'm safer since I live in Dar Bouazza, still I NEVER feel safe here either. I totally stick out. I just try to remain where there are people and never walk off onto a side road. I also don't wear too many nice things, not that I have so much jewelery anyway. Still I'd be pissed if someone stole my wedding band or my engagement ring. Those are sentimental. Let's hope nothing will ever happen.
They go by on mopeds or bicycles and snatch purses or necklaces. Some get straight up robbed. Ramadan seems to be a season of higher crime, especially towards the end. I'm always nervous, but am more so now than before. One woman got attacked on the beach while running alone by two men, one carrying a 6 inch blade at her. Totally mental. In the end, she got neither robbed nor raped, she screamed so much, they walked away. One got attacked outside her home while she was unloading the car filled with groceries. Najat got attacked while she left a house from work, a guy put a knife to her throat and he walked away with her cell phone and her week's wages. Another woman got attacked yesterday while loading her car with groceries. Two men attacked her. She fought both of them off. She put pictures of her ordeal on facebook and is all bloody, but the girl fought. I give her kudos. I doubt they had a knife, but it must have been on the main road. Am totally confused as to why no one helped her??
All of my survival instincts kick in here in Maroc that I had in Chicago. Basically it feels like you're living in the middle of a Chicago slum, so how would you act if you're living in Cabrini Green?
I always look to see who is around me. I keep my purse off the street side shoulder. If I'm walking with a friend side by side, I keep my purse on the shoulder between us. I just went out and bought a 15$ plastic knockoff purse. Problem isn't the purse, it's the papers and cards inside the purse. I'm always worried about getting things snatched. Locals have warned me that if I'm on my cell phone in the car, I need to keep it on the ear that is away from the window, because someone could come by, reach in and snatch it out of my hand. Same goes for purses and packages, keep items on the floor behind you.
Never go running with money, a purse, or something valuable to steel. I always run with nothing on me, just in case. I always run either inside Marina Blanca where there will not be a problem, or on the street where there are lots and lots of people. I have more danger getting hit by a taxi or car suddenly pulling off onto the shoulder or a moped than anything else. I never go out alone where there are no people, forget about going out at night. Don't walk down a street that is dark. If you don't get attacked by a man, you might get attacked by a pack of wild dogs. I'm more afraid of the dogs currently than men.
I have yet to have a problem, but I think that has something to do with luck. A woman got her purse snatched last week while she was walking with her husband by a guy, albeit, not a very bright one who was on foot. Her husband is fit and was wearing trainers. Together they yelled and ran after the guy. He chucked the purse on the ground and continued running off. He broke the strap of her purse as he tried to steal it.
I understand why women wear djelabas. They have open pockets, so you put your belongings on the inside. I might just go out and snag my own, makes it kind of hard to get to my purse though if it's shoved inside a Djelaba, oh well. I guess the key is to look poor, but who wants to go around all covered up looking poor? Not I. I just want to be myself and not have any issues. Most people are very, very nice and friendly. It's just scary when something like this happens. You know it will happen, it's just a matter of time. I figured I'm safer since I live in Dar Bouazza, still I NEVER feel safe here either. I totally stick out. I just try to remain where there are people and never walk off onto a side road. I also don't wear too many nice things, not that I have so much jewelery anyway. Still I'd be pissed if someone stole my wedding band or my engagement ring. Those are sentimental. Let's hope nothing will ever happen.
Ramadan 8/2012
Oh, the dreaded and mysterious Ramadan.
Business hours get messed up, restaurants close during the day. Starbucks isn't open at the mall anymore. My life is over, or is it?....
Ramadan is time of the great fast. No drinking or eating while the sun is up. People's clocks get reversed.
Breakfast starts at Ftour, this year, around 7:45 PM when the sun goes down.
People start with dates, sweets, croissants, tsimmon (moroccan pancakes) and harera (moroccan tomato soup), coffee or tea.
Then around 11:30 PM/Midnight comes the main meal (pastilla), tajine, couscous, whatever.
Then around 3:30 AM before the morning prayer that starts maybe around 3:45 AM, not sure about the exact time, some people get up to have a last light breakfast of fruit and yogurt.
Ftour is a time for family and friends to get together and share a large meal. Eat and party (without alcohol). Honestly, I think it's awesome. The atmosphere at night at Marina Blanca is fantastic. Kids stay up and play until 11 PM, everyone is outside eating and drinking and having a grand old time without adults getting trashed. I think it's really great! Restaurants open up again late at night to serve people Ftour and dinner. It's kind of cool.
Most restaurants are closed during the day. I rarely eat out anyway. I don't find the food in restaurants to be that good. I prefer what Najat cooks at home. The restaurants are all the same anyway, for me brochette, tajine, salad and harera. You can only take so much of that. I haven't had really good steak since I have the impression the meat is sketchy. I won't eat anything unless it's fully cooked. No one seems to know how to butcher meat. They just lob off a hunk of the cow hanging from the hook. No point asking for filet mignon. I'm not a big fan of lamb either. For me, the taste is a little too strong.
I tried to observe Ramadan the first day. I was deathly hungry by the end of the day. I like to run in the early evening and if I have no food, then I have no gas. It didn't quite work for me. Out of respect for others, I don't eat or drink in public. Honestly, it's so hot, I'm not that hungry during the day anyway. Ramadan is more an issue for expats at work. The restaurants are all closed so they have to bring their food with them and eat quietly away from others. It's ok. We're in week 2 already.
It doesn't feel that much different from France. In the month of August, often times small stores and bakeries will just close down completely for the holiday. It annoyed me when I was living in Paris in 1998-1999 because I was still on American mentality that commerce should never stop. Now, I think that is a silly and foolish attitude. Life happens, everyone needs a vacation sometimes...Enjoy.
Business hours get messed up, restaurants close during the day. Starbucks isn't open at the mall anymore. My life is over, or is it?....
Ramadan is time of the great fast. No drinking or eating while the sun is up. People's clocks get reversed.
Breakfast starts at Ftour, this year, around 7:45 PM when the sun goes down.
People start with dates, sweets, croissants, tsimmon (moroccan pancakes) and harera (moroccan tomato soup), coffee or tea.
Then around 11:30 PM/Midnight comes the main meal (pastilla), tajine, couscous, whatever.
Then around 3:30 AM before the morning prayer that starts maybe around 3:45 AM, not sure about the exact time, some people get up to have a last light breakfast of fruit and yogurt.
Ftour is a time for family and friends to get together and share a large meal. Eat and party (without alcohol). Honestly, I think it's awesome. The atmosphere at night at Marina Blanca is fantastic. Kids stay up and play until 11 PM, everyone is outside eating and drinking and having a grand old time without adults getting trashed. I think it's really great! Restaurants open up again late at night to serve people Ftour and dinner. It's kind of cool.
Most restaurants are closed during the day. I rarely eat out anyway. I don't find the food in restaurants to be that good. I prefer what Najat cooks at home. The restaurants are all the same anyway, for me brochette, tajine, salad and harera. You can only take so much of that. I haven't had really good steak since I have the impression the meat is sketchy. I won't eat anything unless it's fully cooked. No one seems to know how to butcher meat. They just lob off a hunk of the cow hanging from the hook. No point asking for filet mignon. I'm not a big fan of lamb either. For me, the taste is a little too strong.
I tried to observe Ramadan the first day. I was deathly hungry by the end of the day. I like to run in the early evening and if I have no food, then I have no gas. It didn't quite work for me. Out of respect for others, I don't eat or drink in public. Honestly, it's so hot, I'm not that hungry during the day anyway. Ramadan is more an issue for expats at work. The restaurants are all closed so they have to bring their food with them and eat quietly away from others. It's ok. We're in week 2 already.
It doesn't feel that much different from France. In the month of August, often times small stores and bakeries will just close down completely for the holiday. It annoyed me when I was living in Paris in 1998-1999 because I was still on American mentality that commerce should never stop. Now, I think that is a silly and foolish attitude. Life happens, everyone needs a vacation sometimes...Enjoy.
Sexuality...I understand a little more...I Think 8/2012
Ok, I'll only talk about the women, because I've never actually talked to a man about sex, sorry to say.
When women are unmarried, but hunting, dress western. They are cute, wear makeup, leave their long hair down, uncovered. In short, they look Western. This is a signal to men that they are on the hunt and available.
Western: Europe and America, includes for me East Europe, Australia, Russia, Canada, so on and so forth.
Women always have long hair, even when they are grandma. Not sure why? Not all women have long hair, some cut it, but I don't ever recall a Moroccan woman here with a really, really short hair cut. At shortest, it might fall down to their shoulders.
Once a woman is in an established relationship, ie she plans to marry the guy she's dating, she will start to cover up. She covers everything except her face, hands, and feet. In the summer, I've seen exceptions to this rule and women come out wearing a lot less because after all, it's hot! The reason why women cover their bodies is because men apparently are very jealous and don't want any other man to look at their woman. The insistence seems to come from men. However, a woman who covers herself is a woman who is well raised and chaste.
Women who are fortunate it enough to have more education and who have had the opportunity to travel, will embrace more western ways of dressing and are more likely to speak either French or sometimes even English to their children. Language is a social class differentiation. There is an unspoken caste system here in which people are born into. You can break out of it, but I've heard people mention more than once the idea of being born into a specific caste. There seem to be general feelings of rights of birth (and luck of birth.)
I am kind of confused about how sex drives work inside a marriage. For me, my drive increases when I feel sexy and am being flirted with or hit on by other men. It helps my sexuality in my own marriage. I figure it must be the same for men. Personally for me, to deny myself this "uplift," will most likely have a negative direct impact on my sex drive and thus on the frequency of my "marriage relations." The sexier I feel, the greater the frequency.
I think across the board, when people don't feel attractive, their sex drive decreases. This is true if they feel ugly or out of shape, beaten up from a boss who is bullying you at work, etc. I don't understand why this would be different for Morocco.
An expat told me that she lived in Saudi Arabia before. Mind you, I have yet to have the pleasure of visiting this country, I'm very curious. But she taught English in highschool. The women in Saudi Arabia are completely covered. She explained that often times, a woman's goal is just to get married because she wants a man to take care of her. That's it. Once a marriage has been established, she completely lets herself go. It's like the opposite of vanity. I cannot imagine thinking like that. In the west, sadly divorce is now pre-programmed in our brains. Half of us now come from divorced parents, so we see things a little differently. I always assume that my husband might leave me one day, so I think about how I'm going to support myself if that should ever come to pass. I don't think women in Saudi Arabia think this way. At least, not yet.
Equality in Sexuality seems to come in conjunction with equality in education and work. Once a woman can financially support herself, she is in a better position to call some shots in her life and in the couple.
When I was a young sexually active unwed female, I wanted to find a man who had lots of sexual experience. I figured, let him learn on someone else. I wanted someone to come to the table with skills. It seems like men in the west want the same things from their spouses. This freedom of sexuality is actually shocking for MANY cultures. My Lebanese friend was shocked when she found out I wasn't a virgin when I married my husband. She asked, "didn't he mind?" I said, "I think he would have minded much more if I was still a virgin." She couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that in her culture men take their future brides to be inspected to make sure she's still "whole." After all, it's just sex. Why is there such a fuss?
I advise people regarding marriage: If you're going to eat out at the same restaurant for the rest of your life, you better check out a few restaurants first before making that decision. You don't want to wonder years later that you may be getting a bad meal. It is an inopportune time to decide to change restaurants once you're already married.
When women are unmarried, but hunting, dress western. They are cute, wear makeup, leave their long hair down, uncovered. In short, they look Western. This is a signal to men that they are on the hunt and available.
Western: Europe and America, includes for me East Europe, Australia, Russia, Canada, so on and so forth.
Women always have long hair, even when they are grandma. Not sure why? Not all women have long hair, some cut it, but I don't ever recall a Moroccan woman here with a really, really short hair cut. At shortest, it might fall down to their shoulders.
Once a woman is in an established relationship, ie she plans to marry the guy she's dating, she will start to cover up. She covers everything except her face, hands, and feet. In the summer, I've seen exceptions to this rule and women come out wearing a lot less because after all, it's hot! The reason why women cover their bodies is because men apparently are very jealous and don't want any other man to look at their woman. The insistence seems to come from men. However, a woman who covers herself is a woman who is well raised and chaste.
Women who are fortunate it enough to have more education and who have had the opportunity to travel, will embrace more western ways of dressing and are more likely to speak either French or sometimes even English to their children. Language is a social class differentiation. There is an unspoken caste system here in which people are born into. You can break out of it, but I've heard people mention more than once the idea of being born into a specific caste. There seem to be general feelings of rights of birth (and luck of birth.)
I am kind of confused about how sex drives work inside a marriage. For me, my drive increases when I feel sexy and am being flirted with or hit on by other men. It helps my sexuality in my own marriage. I figure it must be the same for men. Personally for me, to deny myself this "uplift," will most likely have a negative direct impact on my sex drive and thus on the frequency of my "marriage relations." The sexier I feel, the greater the frequency.
I think across the board, when people don't feel attractive, their sex drive decreases. This is true if they feel ugly or out of shape, beaten up from a boss who is bullying you at work, etc. I don't understand why this would be different for Morocco.
An expat told me that she lived in Saudi Arabia before. Mind you, I have yet to have the pleasure of visiting this country, I'm very curious. But she taught English in highschool. The women in Saudi Arabia are completely covered. She explained that often times, a woman's goal is just to get married because she wants a man to take care of her. That's it. Once a marriage has been established, she completely lets herself go. It's like the opposite of vanity. I cannot imagine thinking like that. In the west, sadly divorce is now pre-programmed in our brains. Half of us now come from divorced parents, so we see things a little differently. I always assume that my husband might leave me one day, so I think about how I'm going to support myself if that should ever come to pass. I don't think women in Saudi Arabia think this way. At least, not yet.
Equality in Sexuality seems to come in conjunction with equality in education and work. Once a woman can financially support herself, she is in a better position to call some shots in her life and in the couple.
When I was a young sexually active unwed female, I wanted to find a man who had lots of sexual experience. I figured, let him learn on someone else. I wanted someone to come to the table with skills. It seems like men in the west want the same things from their spouses. This freedom of sexuality is actually shocking for MANY cultures. My Lebanese friend was shocked when she found out I wasn't a virgin when I married my husband. She asked, "didn't he mind?" I said, "I think he would have minded much more if I was still a virgin." She couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that in her culture men take their future brides to be inspected to make sure she's still "whole." After all, it's just sex. Why is there such a fuss?
I advise people regarding marriage: If you're going to eat out at the same restaurant for the rest of your life, you better check out a few restaurants first before making that decision. You don't want to wonder years later that you may be getting a bad meal. It is an inopportune time to decide to change restaurants once you're already married.
Unwanted House Guests 08/2012
There are 2 unwanted house guests that we just can't seem to get rid of:
1. Ants
2. Cockroaches
1. Ants are a given. They're small, they get into many things. They come out of the cracks in the walls, floors, and behind the wood frame on the doors. We spray poison but that's about all we can do.
2. Cockroaches: Every day we have about 5 in the house, mostly live. They prefer to come out at night. They crawl up the patio and under the doors, climb up drains, climb up the outside walls and in through the windows. They are big and fast. They often somehow end up falling on their backs, then get stuck that way, so in the morning I go around collecting stranded cockroaches and throw them out the window.
The company here at Marina Blanca spray inside and outside, but it doesn't seem to help. Of course, when I asked them to come out and spray again, their only answer was "well ma'am, it's cockroach season."
How to kill a cockroach: The first time I saw a giant cockroach was upstairs on the second floor. Cockroaches were "new" to the family since we didn't have them in the winter and the kids were very excited and agitated to see one. I took a big shoe and smashed it. Guts and Goo shot out of it all over the wall. It was very squished and stopped moving. Nicolas was very excited about mom's fresh kill and blew on it. Suddenly, it jumped up, entrails dragging behind it and started running around. All three kids went hysterical. Nicolas broke out into tears. Anaïs hustled everyone down the hallway to her bedroom.
Sadly it wasn't just the kids who were terrified, mom was too. So, I took the shoe and slammed it on the cockroach a second time. More guts and goo shot out and sprayed the wall. Really disgusting. I'm thinking this is an awful mess to clean up for one cockroach. This time he looked definitively dead. I got a wad of toilet paper and decided to pick him up and flush him down the toilet. Honestly, I had goose bumps and images of this thing coming back to life a third time, running up my arm. I will not lie, I was concerned...But he stayed dead.
I only stomp on a cockroach if it's moving at top speed and I have no choice because it might disappear under the couch or something. My new method (since I find at least one almost EVERY night in my bathroom), I put my hand in a washcloth, pick the thing up live and simply hurl it out the window. I have a tendency to pick them up too roughly 'cause sometimes their guts squish out a bit, ewe, yuk, but not sure that will actually kill it, so it too gets hurled out the window. Sometimes I miss the window and it ricochets back on me, springs to life and starts cruising around. That happened this evening. Wasn't too happy about it, but still managed to put it back out the window.
I have yet to start grabbing them with my bare hands, though that time may yet come...Yuk. They are harmless, just disgusting.
Kids are pretty impressive and getting used to cockroaches. One night, Anaïs came into my bedroom in the middle of the night and said "um, mom, there's a cockroach in my bed." Well, I figured I better get up because that's kind of an emergency. Sure enough, a cockroach climbed up inside Anaïs's mosquito net above her bed. I trapped the thing in the net, unhooked it from the ceiling, then dangled it out of the net outside off her balcony. I showed her the evidence of the empty net a few times, but she didn't believe me that it was gone, so we didn't hook her mosquito net back up that night. I double checked her covers, just in case because I know a cockroach in my bed would totally freak me out. Once we established her bed was clear, she was able to go back to sleep, albeit, she probably got eaten to death that night by a million and one mosquitoes that fly everywhere (thus the mosquito nets.)
I was really impressed that Anaïs at 9 years of age didn't go screaming and freaking out over a cockroach in her bed. She remained quite calm. I figured most other little girls would have screamed and cried hysterically. When I freak out, I try to only freak out on the inside and show a stoic front to the kids so they remain calmer. Still, cockroaches, yeah, I'm getting sick of them. Too bad you can't turn them into soup or something...free meal, lots of protein.
1. Ants
2. Cockroaches
1. Ants are a given. They're small, they get into many things. They come out of the cracks in the walls, floors, and behind the wood frame on the doors. We spray poison but that's about all we can do.
2. Cockroaches: Every day we have about 5 in the house, mostly live. They prefer to come out at night. They crawl up the patio and under the doors, climb up drains, climb up the outside walls and in through the windows. They are big and fast. They often somehow end up falling on their backs, then get stuck that way, so in the morning I go around collecting stranded cockroaches and throw them out the window.
The company here at Marina Blanca spray inside and outside, but it doesn't seem to help. Of course, when I asked them to come out and spray again, their only answer was "well ma'am, it's cockroach season."
How to kill a cockroach: The first time I saw a giant cockroach was upstairs on the second floor. Cockroaches were "new" to the family since we didn't have them in the winter and the kids were very excited and agitated to see one. I took a big shoe and smashed it. Guts and Goo shot out of it all over the wall. It was very squished and stopped moving. Nicolas was very excited about mom's fresh kill and blew on it. Suddenly, it jumped up, entrails dragging behind it and started running around. All three kids went hysterical. Nicolas broke out into tears. Anaïs hustled everyone down the hallway to her bedroom.
Sadly it wasn't just the kids who were terrified, mom was too. So, I took the shoe and slammed it on the cockroach a second time. More guts and goo shot out and sprayed the wall. Really disgusting. I'm thinking this is an awful mess to clean up for one cockroach. This time he looked definitively dead. I got a wad of toilet paper and decided to pick him up and flush him down the toilet. Honestly, I had goose bumps and images of this thing coming back to life a third time, running up my arm. I will not lie, I was concerned...But he stayed dead.
I only stomp on a cockroach if it's moving at top speed and I have no choice because it might disappear under the couch or something. My new method (since I find at least one almost EVERY night in my bathroom), I put my hand in a washcloth, pick the thing up live and simply hurl it out the window. I have a tendency to pick them up too roughly 'cause sometimes their guts squish out a bit, ewe, yuk, but not sure that will actually kill it, so it too gets hurled out the window. Sometimes I miss the window and it ricochets back on me, springs to life and starts cruising around. That happened this evening. Wasn't too happy about it, but still managed to put it back out the window.
I have yet to start grabbing them with my bare hands, though that time may yet come...Yuk. They are harmless, just disgusting.
Kids are pretty impressive and getting used to cockroaches. One night, Anaïs came into my bedroom in the middle of the night and said "um, mom, there's a cockroach in my bed." Well, I figured I better get up because that's kind of an emergency. Sure enough, a cockroach climbed up inside Anaïs's mosquito net above her bed. I trapped the thing in the net, unhooked it from the ceiling, then dangled it out of the net outside off her balcony. I showed her the evidence of the empty net a few times, but she didn't believe me that it was gone, so we didn't hook her mosquito net back up that night. I double checked her covers, just in case because I know a cockroach in my bed would totally freak me out. Once we established her bed was clear, she was able to go back to sleep, albeit, she probably got eaten to death that night by a million and one mosquitoes that fly everywhere (thus the mosquito nets.)
I was really impressed that Anaïs at 9 years of age didn't go screaming and freaking out over a cockroach in her bed. She remained quite calm. I figured most other little girls would have screamed and cried hysterically. When I freak out, I try to only freak out on the inside and show a stoic front to the kids so they remain calmer. Still, cockroaches, yeah, I'm getting sick of them. Too bad you can't turn them into soup or something...free meal, lots of protein.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Doing Business in Morocco June 2012
First, if you're going to do business here and you're Western, you are going to have to arm yourself with a good pair of rubber boots and a shovel; to dig your way through all the bull shit.
Argan
Big beauty industry here is Argan oil. I think Morocco has some beautiful natural products here that are bio and wonderful for the cosmetic industry. Like so many others, I want to create beautiful bio bien être products for use in the USA. I'm just at the beginning stages of this business.
I met with the director of the American Chamber of Commerce in Casablanca. She told me it might be a good idea to first begin with the cooperatives. She called a guy running a cooperative out of Essaouira. He happened to be coming to Casablanca.
All of the Argan is done only between Essaouria and Agadir. As far as I currently know, that is the only place in the world where Argan trees grow.
So, all I wanted was a list of products from this guy, prices, and samples if any. I met him for coffee in town with Xavier that night. He brought nothing, just a meet and greet. He told me the samples are traveling that night and they will arrive tomorrow. He offered to have lunch the next day, there he would give me everything I'm asking for.
So, the next day we meet for lunch. I received nothing. He said the samples haven't arrived yet. He offered for me to come back to Casablanca the next day. I said no. I told him I was planning to take a trip to Essaouira next week, when I come down, we'll get together in the morning, he can give me everything then. I gave him my email address.
So, we plan our trip to Essaouira. Xavier took off of work and we collected Driss to make the drive. Otherwise I would have gone alone with Driss. Driss is 34 and in a relationship. I'm 36 so, I'm not too comfortable with the idea of spending a few days alone with Driss. That's a lot of time to spend with someone. Xavier was even less keen on the idea.
Xavier also had a lead on a house for sale somewhere between Safi and Essaouira. It looked like a dump from the photo. But, what the heck? He wanted us to camp in this place overnight to see how it feels. So, we packed the camping gear as well. Why not? I've slept in worse.
We finally arrive at this dive of a house in the middle of nowhere. Driss was terrified. Xavier still insisted on sleeping in the house. There was no phone reception, so if we have a problem we can't call for help. Driss said there is no security. I don't know what's worse, being in town with tons of people, or in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors. So we set up camp. There was a gecko in the house. Driss didn't sleep a wink that night.
The next day, we got coffee and called my contact for Argan. He came with a buddy, some guy who owns a travel agency in Essaouira. Not sure why he came?? So they bring us back to his house and gave breakfast. We had Amlou, honey, Argan oil and olive oil with bread and rolls and mint tea of course. It was very good. Amlou is crushed almonds with argan oil and honey. Very yummy. Argan oil tastes nutty, kind of like peanut oil. After breakfast, we went to look at Argan trees.
We told them were we slept and they said we got very lucky. They said in that exact area, there was crime committed every year. People would set up road blocks on the main road (4 meters from the house we slept in) and rob people at night. They said it was incredibly stupid of us to have slept there, with no neighbors and no phone reception.
We took this guy's sister with us for some reason and then picked up some guy on the road who ended up being their chauffeur. Then, we picked up another guy on a moped who was waiting for us at the beginning of the Argan forest. Presumably, he owns the land the trees are growing, but not sure. From this point on we off roaded it through a dirt path with the cars. They explained the fruit on the Argan tree, that you pick it up when it falls freely from the tree. Well, actually the women beat the tree and the fruit the size of small yellow prunes drop off. Then they collect the fruit, wait for them to dry. They beat them open with rocks. Inside there is a shell that they use to feed goats and to light fires. Inside the shell is the little nut that looks like a slivered almond. Inside you can have from 1-3 "argan nuts." Very small quantity of things. If you are going to eat it, you grill the nuts first then grind them to oil. If you're making beauty products, you grind the raw argan. Edible argan is more expensive to make, probably due to the extra step, plus it has a stronger nuttier flavor.
Once the argan is ground into a runny paste, the women mix it into a bowl with water which separates the ground nuts from the oil and they manually squeeze the oil out with their hands. It is a laborious process. The women at the co-ops get paid per quantity they produce.
So, I took some photos of Argan trees that are over 100 years old, or so they said. Finally, at the end of this long haul, we ended at the farmer's house. He got two mules and insisted that Xavier and I ride the mules. So, that was my first experience riding a mule on the side of a hill. I actually could have gone on faster on foot, but it was on my list of things to experience before I die. Ride a mule, check....
We got back to the farmer's house, he showed us this mud hut that his wife built to bake bread. We went into his family room. The room consisted of 1 meter by 3 meters, a tv, some mats on the floor in the corner, a very low round table and about 200 flies. We were hot and sweaty and sat down on the mats surrounding this table. They brought out the ceremonial hand washing pitcher and basin for guests made out of tin. You hold your hands over the basin and the host pours water from a pitcher over your hands to clean them. They brought out a giant round bread, not made of wheat, but of something else the name of which eludes me, slathered in homemade butter from their own cows. It was very good. We drank water from their well. I was really worried about getting sick from drinking well water, especially after I looked inside the well and saw how dirty the water was, but I felt pressured to drink some. (I never got sick, though the water had flavor.)
Then he brought out the ceremonious mint tea and some homemade cookies. I had gorged myself on food for breakfast stuffing my belly full of super rich amlou, so I had to make an effort to eat, though I had absolutely no desire. The flies seemed to slowly leave, then he brought out a whole plate of couscous.
Kindly, he gave us all spoons. In Morocco you eat couscous with your fingers and bread and everyone out of the same platter. Being western, I have a really hard time putting my fingers in food and then into my mouth, especially if I don't have access to soap first. Still I felt obligated. The meat in the couscous is sheep's head. Having never eaten sheep's head before, fresh from his yard, I wasn't too keen on starting now. Eating sheep's head is NOT on my list of things to experience before I die, however, it will now be on the list. The man who owned the travel agency passed me a piece of meat with his fingers all covered in couscous and said this is sheep tongue, eat it. So, I tried it. It had solid pieces that I discreetly laid on the table since I had no plate or napkin. Then, he gave me another piece of meat, this time an ear. I'm thinking, man I really don't want to eat it, especially after so many fingers have touched it??? But, I did. It's chewy. Then, with couscous it's customary to serve milk called Leben, like buttermilk in the states, though with lots of chunks. One man gave me a bowl and mixed the milk with the couscous and gave it to me to eat. Yet another name for that which eludes me. Xavier offered a financial gift of 50 dhm to the man for his time and effort (really that of his wife). At first he refused, then Driss offered to give it to his children. This, he was accepting and grateful. It was a bit awkward because in the West, offering money is really rude. Here, it was the right thing to do. Kudos for Xavier for thinking of that, because I didn't.
All in all, it was ok. I had a hard time drinking the Leben, since there were so many unidentifiable solid pieces in it. After, we went to a co-op. It was a tourist trap, yet I still took photos of the women working. There was a woman there doing sales and I started asking her questions, wanting price lists, product lists, and certifications. They had none. All of the men swarmed me to stop me from asking her these questions. They said we would come back, but we never did.
The next part became very bizarre. The travel agent took us to a junior highschool/orphanage. This was a school for poor girls age 12-15 whose fathers have died. The guy gave us a tour and then pressured me to sit down with the girls and talk to them. I was very uncomfortable. I was also totally annoyed with these men because I felt like they were trying to keep me from my real purpose in Essaouira. So, I asked the guy "why did you bring me here?" I wanted to hear him say it. The yankee cash cow has arrived and we plan on milking the shit out of her. After some thought and insistence for a response he said "because I wanted to show you the real back country of Essouira."
So, I gave the girls a hello, how are you? Study hard pep talk. Told them my first language isn't French either. Explained to them that I'm American, but didn't tell them what I was doing there, since I didn't know myself, other than suspecting they were hoping for a large donation. I asked the girls what they wanted to be when they grow up. Doctor, math teacher, good answers. I told them to study hard, pass their BAC, then go onto university. I told them they can become anything they want, they have to just study and work hard. The girls were very cute and nice. Some were very shy, almost terrified. Others were very excited. It was nice, not very helpful for my business, but nice.
The travel agent insisted on taking lots of photographs, then had all of us stand up together. It was kind of weird. At this point I was ready to leave, but they insisted on having dinner. The next thing I know, the director of the school is coming with us to dinner, met with their local doctor who checks all their samples.
At the restaurant, we had mint tea, again. Then, they brought out two tajines with meat and potatoes. We had to eat it with our fingers and bread again. I didn't have an appetite and was being slightly criticized for not eating enough. I tell you, I have a hard time with the finger thing. After dinner, we just wanted to get out of there and to the hotel. I was starting to get annoyed because I felt like they were totally manipulating me to keep me there among them and NOT letting me get on with other things. We ended up getting to a hotel around 9 PM. By then I was really irritated.
Conclusion:
There is a strange mentality in Morocco. If you are Moroccan, you are poor. If you are French or European, you are rich. However, if you are American, you shit money. To them, I was a yankee cash cow. I spent that day with the men blowing enough smoke up my rear end that I could be a float in the Macy's Parade. They wanted me to pay for the orphanage. They wanted me to pay for them to begin another co-op. I could tell them the truth, but they hold onto this fallacy, this dream with such fervor, I don't think they could accept reality.
Current Reality of me:
Jennel is currently a housewife = no job = no money
There ain't no kind of yankee cash cow in the building.
* * * *
The next day was much more productive. I visited roughly 10 co-ops and got 2 decent contacts out of that group, both run, owned, and operated by women. I have blown off the men gently and politely since then. Driss thinks we got run in with the local Essouira Mafia who were trying to hoodwink us, not very successfully. They tried to get Driss to sleep at their house instead of at the hotel with us. We kept Driss with us. The men never did send me any information and or samples.
Argan
Big beauty industry here is Argan oil. I think Morocco has some beautiful natural products here that are bio and wonderful for the cosmetic industry. Like so many others, I want to create beautiful bio bien être products for use in the USA. I'm just at the beginning stages of this business.
I met with the director of the American Chamber of Commerce in Casablanca. She told me it might be a good idea to first begin with the cooperatives. She called a guy running a cooperative out of Essaouira. He happened to be coming to Casablanca.
All of the Argan is done only between Essaouria and Agadir. As far as I currently know, that is the only place in the world where Argan trees grow.
So, all I wanted was a list of products from this guy, prices, and samples if any. I met him for coffee in town with Xavier that night. He brought nothing, just a meet and greet. He told me the samples are traveling that night and they will arrive tomorrow. He offered to have lunch the next day, there he would give me everything I'm asking for.
So, the next day we meet for lunch. I received nothing. He said the samples haven't arrived yet. He offered for me to come back to Casablanca the next day. I said no. I told him I was planning to take a trip to Essaouira next week, when I come down, we'll get together in the morning, he can give me everything then. I gave him my email address.
So, we plan our trip to Essaouira. Xavier took off of work and we collected Driss to make the drive. Otherwise I would have gone alone with Driss. Driss is 34 and in a relationship. I'm 36 so, I'm not too comfortable with the idea of spending a few days alone with Driss. That's a lot of time to spend with someone. Xavier was even less keen on the idea.
Xavier also had a lead on a house for sale somewhere between Safi and Essaouira. It looked like a dump from the photo. But, what the heck? He wanted us to camp in this place overnight to see how it feels. So, we packed the camping gear as well. Why not? I've slept in worse.
We finally arrive at this dive of a house in the middle of nowhere. Driss was terrified. Xavier still insisted on sleeping in the house. There was no phone reception, so if we have a problem we can't call for help. Driss said there is no security. I don't know what's worse, being in town with tons of people, or in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors. So we set up camp. There was a gecko in the house. Driss didn't sleep a wink that night.
The next day, we got coffee and called my contact for Argan. He came with a buddy, some guy who owns a travel agency in Essaouira. Not sure why he came?? So they bring us back to his house and gave breakfast. We had Amlou, honey, Argan oil and olive oil with bread and rolls and mint tea of course. It was very good. Amlou is crushed almonds with argan oil and honey. Very yummy. Argan oil tastes nutty, kind of like peanut oil. After breakfast, we went to look at Argan trees.
We told them were we slept and they said we got very lucky. They said in that exact area, there was crime committed every year. People would set up road blocks on the main road (4 meters from the house we slept in) and rob people at night. They said it was incredibly stupid of us to have slept there, with no neighbors and no phone reception.
We took this guy's sister with us for some reason and then picked up some guy on the road who ended up being their chauffeur. Then, we picked up another guy on a moped who was waiting for us at the beginning of the Argan forest. Presumably, he owns the land the trees are growing, but not sure. From this point on we off roaded it through a dirt path with the cars. They explained the fruit on the Argan tree, that you pick it up when it falls freely from the tree. Well, actually the women beat the tree and the fruit the size of small yellow prunes drop off. Then they collect the fruit, wait for them to dry. They beat them open with rocks. Inside there is a shell that they use to feed goats and to light fires. Inside the shell is the little nut that looks like a slivered almond. Inside you can have from 1-3 "argan nuts." Very small quantity of things. If you are going to eat it, you grill the nuts first then grind them to oil. If you're making beauty products, you grind the raw argan. Edible argan is more expensive to make, probably due to the extra step, plus it has a stronger nuttier flavor.
Once the argan is ground into a runny paste, the women mix it into a bowl with water which separates the ground nuts from the oil and they manually squeeze the oil out with their hands. It is a laborious process. The women at the co-ops get paid per quantity they produce.
So, I took some photos of Argan trees that are over 100 years old, or so they said. Finally, at the end of this long haul, we ended at the farmer's house. He got two mules and insisted that Xavier and I ride the mules. So, that was my first experience riding a mule on the side of a hill. I actually could have gone on faster on foot, but it was on my list of things to experience before I die. Ride a mule, check....
We got back to the farmer's house, he showed us this mud hut that his wife built to bake bread. We went into his family room. The room consisted of 1 meter by 3 meters, a tv, some mats on the floor in the corner, a very low round table and about 200 flies. We were hot and sweaty and sat down on the mats surrounding this table. They brought out the ceremonial hand washing pitcher and basin for guests made out of tin. You hold your hands over the basin and the host pours water from a pitcher over your hands to clean them. They brought out a giant round bread, not made of wheat, but of something else the name of which eludes me, slathered in homemade butter from their own cows. It was very good. We drank water from their well. I was really worried about getting sick from drinking well water, especially after I looked inside the well and saw how dirty the water was, but I felt pressured to drink some. (I never got sick, though the water had flavor.)
Then he brought out the ceremonious mint tea and some homemade cookies. I had gorged myself on food for breakfast stuffing my belly full of super rich amlou, so I had to make an effort to eat, though I had absolutely no desire. The flies seemed to slowly leave, then he brought out a whole plate of couscous.
Kindly, he gave us all spoons. In Morocco you eat couscous with your fingers and bread and everyone out of the same platter. Being western, I have a really hard time putting my fingers in food and then into my mouth, especially if I don't have access to soap first. Still I felt obligated. The meat in the couscous is sheep's head. Having never eaten sheep's head before, fresh from his yard, I wasn't too keen on starting now. Eating sheep's head is NOT on my list of things to experience before I die, however, it will now be on the list. The man who owned the travel agency passed me a piece of meat with his fingers all covered in couscous and said this is sheep tongue, eat it. So, I tried it. It had solid pieces that I discreetly laid on the table since I had no plate or napkin. Then, he gave me another piece of meat, this time an ear. I'm thinking, man I really don't want to eat it, especially after so many fingers have touched it??? But, I did. It's chewy. Then, with couscous it's customary to serve milk called Leben, like buttermilk in the states, though with lots of chunks. One man gave me a bowl and mixed the milk with the couscous and gave it to me to eat. Yet another name for that which eludes me. Xavier offered a financial gift of 50 dhm to the man for his time and effort (really that of his wife). At first he refused, then Driss offered to give it to his children. This, he was accepting and grateful. It was a bit awkward because in the West, offering money is really rude. Here, it was the right thing to do. Kudos for Xavier for thinking of that, because I didn't.
All in all, it was ok. I had a hard time drinking the Leben, since there were so many unidentifiable solid pieces in it. After, we went to a co-op. It was a tourist trap, yet I still took photos of the women working. There was a woman there doing sales and I started asking her questions, wanting price lists, product lists, and certifications. They had none. All of the men swarmed me to stop me from asking her these questions. They said we would come back, but we never did.
The next part became very bizarre. The travel agent took us to a junior highschool/orphanage. This was a school for poor girls age 12-15 whose fathers have died. The guy gave us a tour and then pressured me to sit down with the girls and talk to them. I was very uncomfortable. I was also totally annoyed with these men because I felt like they were trying to keep me from my real purpose in Essaouira. So, I asked the guy "why did you bring me here?" I wanted to hear him say it. The yankee cash cow has arrived and we plan on milking the shit out of her. After some thought and insistence for a response he said "because I wanted to show you the real back country of Essouira."
So, I gave the girls a hello, how are you? Study hard pep talk. Told them my first language isn't French either. Explained to them that I'm American, but didn't tell them what I was doing there, since I didn't know myself, other than suspecting they were hoping for a large donation. I asked the girls what they wanted to be when they grow up. Doctor, math teacher, good answers. I told them to study hard, pass their BAC, then go onto university. I told them they can become anything they want, they have to just study and work hard. The girls were very cute and nice. Some were very shy, almost terrified. Others were very excited. It was nice, not very helpful for my business, but nice.
The travel agent insisted on taking lots of photographs, then had all of us stand up together. It was kind of weird. At this point I was ready to leave, but they insisted on having dinner. The next thing I know, the director of the school is coming with us to dinner, met with their local doctor who checks all their samples.
At the restaurant, we had mint tea, again. Then, they brought out two tajines with meat and potatoes. We had to eat it with our fingers and bread again. I didn't have an appetite and was being slightly criticized for not eating enough. I tell you, I have a hard time with the finger thing. After dinner, we just wanted to get out of there and to the hotel. I was starting to get annoyed because I felt like they were totally manipulating me to keep me there among them and NOT letting me get on with other things. We ended up getting to a hotel around 9 PM. By then I was really irritated.
Conclusion:
There is a strange mentality in Morocco. If you are Moroccan, you are poor. If you are French or European, you are rich. However, if you are American, you shit money. To them, I was a yankee cash cow. I spent that day with the men blowing enough smoke up my rear end that I could be a float in the Macy's Parade. They wanted me to pay for the orphanage. They wanted me to pay for them to begin another co-op. I could tell them the truth, but they hold onto this fallacy, this dream with such fervor, I don't think they could accept reality.
Current Reality of me:
Jennel is currently a housewife = no job = no money
There ain't no kind of yankee cash cow in the building.
* * * *
The next day was much more productive. I visited roughly 10 co-ops and got 2 decent contacts out of that group, both run, owned, and operated by women. I have blown off the men gently and politely since then. Driss thinks we got run in with the local Essouira Mafia who were trying to hoodwink us, not very successfully. They tried to get Driss to sleep at their house instead of at the hotel with us. We kept Driss with us. The men never did send me any information and or samples.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
